Irish pop-jazz duo Zrazy have been a long time on the sidelines, but maybe their new album will break the mould, writes Tony Clayton-Lea
There's niche and there's niche. Jazz, despite its present hip currency amongst bright young things, as background music du jour whilst ladling the starter soup into Louis Mulcahy bowls, is still something to be feared. If it isn't a legend or a prodigy (from Miles Davis to Jamie Cullum, from Ella Fitzgerald to Amy Winehouse), then, quite simply, a lot of people don't want to know. If it isn't a crossover name such as Norah Jones - someone with obvious influences and a rather tasteful, thoroughly straight approach to the music - then people don't want to know, either.
So where does Zrazy fit in? For more than 10 years, Zrazy - the Irish-based duo of Maria Walsh and Carole Nelson - have occupied the middle ground and have continued to operate under the public's spurious, self-centred embargo. Neither legends nor prodigies, Walsh and Nelson (each utterly considered, civilised and charming) have flown under the radar for so long it's a wonder they're still on the map.
America has been their saving, they say. Popular in certain large enclaves in Chicago and Los Angeles - where the band's core gay following has broadened out through perceptive radio programming and bursts of gigging - Walsh and Nelson come across as the kind of people who take things in their respective strides. Could they have helped their career by basing themselves in America? Yes. Could they have cloaked their sexuality on the basis that it can negatively effect perception and commercial success? Yes again.
Yet it seems that the duo take the path of most resistance. It's not that they're truculent about what they do; rather, their philosophy appears to be: accept us for what we are and do. When they're not gigging in the US, Walsh and Nelson give the impression that they're at home tending their organic vegetables, crocheting doilies, extremely comfortable away from the numbers and the noise. Each is aware, however, that, through being away from the public eye, they are in danger of being forgotten about.
"It has always struck me that when people ask about the whereabouts of someone that was once well-known," says Nelson, "you think that perhaps they went into a retreat or that they might have had kids. Or maybe that these people simply decided just to get on with their lives.
"Which isn't to say that I'm not serious about a career; I'm really serious about music and writing music, but I'm not always so ably focused on the career side of things, which I think might be a failing. Maybe the quality of engagement with music doesn't really sit terribly well with the whole success/making it thing. And it's not that I'm sitting at home waiting to be discovered. I've worked with people that are incredibly focused, and I'm always impressed with them - they seem to know exactly how to do it and what they're doing. I have the capacity to disappear from the public eye and not mind very much."
One can hardly blame Zrazy for having such an approach (indeed, it would be better for us all if more people had the capacity to disappear from the public eye and not mind very much, too); the band owns its mastertapes and controls its destiny in a way that is enviable and admirable.
"We have been able to develop the music along with our lives, almost at a parallel, and at a pace that suits us," Walsh remarks. "I wouldn't mind at all, of course, if an Irish record company wanted to help us out here. I mean, we're not necessarily aiming to be separatist indie, or anything like that."
"It would be brilliant if we played more gigs and sold more records," agrees Nelson, "but we're philosophical about it. In the States, we've had record deals, been dropped, had very high hopes and had them dashed. We've been through all of that and haven't fallen apart, and have continued to make records and continued to enjoy the level of recognition we have. We're psychologically intact!" But are they commercially redundant? On the basis of their latest album, Dream On, they're nowhere close to it. Jazz-inflected pop songs and ballads secure the notion of Zrazy as one of Ireland's better-kept secrets. The most apt description is languid. The fact that Dream On was paid for by fans in Ireland, the US and elsewhere (not forgetting an Arts Council grant) means the fanbase, although small, is fervent and loyal.
"When you have something like our fans paying for the album," says Nelson, "it's perhaps best to have a Zen-like approach to things. Somebody thinks we're worth it!"
Having the album paid for is, quite literally, a gift, then. Anything that happens beyond that, according to Walsh and Nelson, is a bonus. Each agrees that critical acclaim, although nice to read, doesn't necessarily pay the bills. What do they want, exactly? "What do I want?" echoes Nelson. "I'll tell you: I have a sense of a hypothetical, imaginary audience out there who I think would really enjoy this album. I'd like them to have the option to hear it, that's all."
Radio programming receives a polite bashing. Which radio stations will play Zrazy's music? A few people in RTÉ Radio One, perhaps. 2FM? Unlikely.
"I find the airwaves in Ireland quite a desert, to be honest," says Walsh. "How come Jazz FM didn't get a licence? If ever there was a crime that was one. It's very depressing for such a small country like Ireland to have so much bad Anglo-American pop music played on radio stations."
And yet they're not really moaning about things; they're simply comparing like with like, wondering what a Zrazy life they might lead if certain aspects were different. They have established they don't really fit in anywhere, yet, because they don't want to base themselves in the US, their cloth has been self-cut to suit their requirements. Nelson recalls that she was once into the improvisational jazz scene in London. Improvisation is terrific in theory, of course, but when you end up with more people on the stage than in the audience, surely you have to start reconsidering certain creative motives. She slowly retreated from that scene, she says, and drifted into a more accessible, customer-friendly area within which she currently resides.
"I really like performing in front of an audience, playing music that people are going to dig, and I love good music whatever it is. As a sax player, I'm perfectly happy to stay in jazz. As a songwriter? No. Essentially, where I'm at is trying to get the balance right between those two. I don't want to disappear into a very esoteric art form and not connect to the world." She then mentions something about "inchoate ululations" and laughs. (Indeed, we all laugh; perhaps you had to be there.) "I'm personally interested in finding the breadth of expression, and want to be able to do that," says Walsh, stemming the tide of humour somewhat. "I'm not so sure that jazz in and of itself will allow that. And that's what we had from earlier material; it's still an experiment and exploration. I love jazz and the mood and sensibility of it, and I want to explore more and more freedoms in it. To get that expression that moves and lifts people across is a challenge. I hope I'm rising to it, but it's still an ongoing project."
Zrazy launch their album, Dream On, in Dublin's Sugar Club next Tuesday, August 17th